


Survivor's Guilt

by SoDoLaFaMiDoRe



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 20:41:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8342002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoDoLaFaMiDoRe/pseuds/SoDoLaFaMiDoRe
Summary: Just a quick drabble on Rodimus as a character and how his beginnings shaped him.





	

Racing hadn’t always been a part of Rodimus’ life. Sure, he had always been fast, always with a frame built for speed and power, but in Nyon that had been more of a hindrance than a help. In a city where most scraped by for fuel, constantly needing more than others meant you went hungry a lot quicker. He’d tried to conserve where he could, although if a street race had a promise of a clean cube or two for the winner he’d try to be the fastest of them all.

 

He’d seen what the Senate could do first hand, lost his home and his friends to an inferno when they decided that a whole city was of better use dead. Everyone commended that he’d made the right choice, sacrificing the place he’d called home and the inhabitants he’d considered comrades-at-arms when Zeta came calling. 

 

Optimus and Megatron both had tried to reassure him of his decision, tell him all about sacrifice and what it means to be a leader, as if Rodimus hadn’t had a life separate from either of their grand schemes. His group, the rag-tag rebels they were, had made their own choices long before he’d met them. 

 

Sure, having fuel and respect and a position of authority had its perks, but the anxiety attacks and recharge fluxes that had plagued him every night for over a million years take their toll on a mech. He pushed his anxieties down, as deep as he could, in the hopes that one day he could face his demons without the ever-looming guilt tightening like a noose.

 

Racing had been a good way to forget. His frame remembered how he’d used to race for food, and the faster and more dangerous, the better. Navigating hairpin turns, scraping walls and pulling off some impressive trick moves was the best way for Rodimus to forget, just for a moment, all the guilt weighing him down. 

 

A four-million year war had been one of the last things he’d wanted to deal with, and being a Prime even less so. Sure, the Matrix had felt warm and comforting, the upgrade was neat, but floating in space half-dead had taken its toll on his psyche. The Lost Light was one of the ways he could try to forget that.

 

It seemed instead of forgetting, he’d be repeating his mistakes. Most of his crew could barely contain their contempt for him, and they dropped like flies. Sure, he had his own likes and dislikes of those around him, but remembering the vote and how the etching made his palm burn reminded him that no matter what mask he wore, he hadn’t changed at all from the starving mech he’d onlined as.

 

He was downright terrified he’d forget Nyon one day and make the same mistakes again.

  
When the time came to close the doors to the teleporters and seal their fate, Rodimus felt that in a way, he had.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
